


Heartbeat

by PolzkaDotz



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Deals, M/M, Ritualistic Self-Harm, all tagged characters are not named but they do appear in the story, lightly described violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolzkaDotz/pseuds/PolzkaDotz
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Andrew had felt that coming here was a bit like going to a new foster home: kinda abrupt, enraging in a helpless sort of way and the perfect reason to build another layer of bricks on the walls around himself. Maybe a little worse than that, because he at least knew to expect the worst out of humans. The Fair Folk had been legends—myths—for a long time and nothing else. Which parts of Andrew’s limited knowledge of fairy tales and whatnot would be useful? It was impossible to know.Now, at thirty years old, Andrew wanted to childishly cling to each tree, each memory, each minute he still had left—worse yet, he wanted to cling even to the person walking behind him, despite what Andrew’s pride had to say about that. Despite what the Redcap himself would have to say about it.Aaron made a deal with a Faerie that would get him stuck in Faerie land for fifteen years, but Andrew went in his place since Aaron would definitely fuck up and stay stuck there forever.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 30
Kudos: 109
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shklance_Beef_Sandwich](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shklance_Beef_Sandwich/gifts).



>   
> I could give fifteen million excuses for why I wasn't done on time, but that would be inconsiderate of my part taking into consideration that I could have planned better but... succumbed to the whims of Writer's Block. My giftee, I'm sorrier than you can imagine that you were paired with a disaster of a writer.  
>   
> WARNING: I have not thoroughly added all the tags! There will be some (more) graphic depictions of blood later! Also, there will be a lot of characters without names as you know them because Fae and full names and power and stuff but I did try to make them as clear as possible.  
> The song this was inspired by is "Heartbeat" by The Fray!  
> 

As Andrew walked through the forest, he couldn’t help but ponder over what a fucking difference it was from the last time he had been allowed near this particular part of Faerie land. 

Fifteen years ago, Andrew had felt that coming here was a bit like going to a new foster home: kinda abrupt, enraging in a helpless sort of way and the perfect reason to build another layer of bricks on the walls around himself. Maybe a little worse than that, because he at least knew to expect the worst out of humans. The Fair Folk had been legends—myths—for a long time and nothing else. Which parts of Andrew’s limited knowledge of fairy tales and whatnot would be useful? It was impossible to know. 

Now, at thirty years old, Andrew wanted to childishly cling to each tree, each memory, each minute he still had left—worse yet, he wanted to cling even to the person walking behind him, despite what Andrew’s pride had to say about that. Despite what the Redcap himself would have to say about it. 

Leaving Faerie land felt like going to bed at night, by yourself, and hearing a squelching noise coming from the darkness under the bed. A prelude to a nightmare, contrasting perfectly with the dreamlike experience he’d had with the Faes. The absolute quiet of the forest didn’t help lift his mood. 

It took him an embarrassingly long time to notice the quiet was happening because the Redcap had stopped walking. Andrew turned to look at him. 

“Why does your heart race?” The Redcap had his head inclined, his brownish cap almost falling from his head. 

_I don’t want to wake up_ , Andrew wanted to say, mostly out of habit, since Andrew tended to not lie to the Redcap, ever. _I don’t want to go back to my world and find out they have forgotten me, and that I have no place there anymore_. 

_I don’t want to be reminded that I’ve never really had a place there._

Andrew couldn’t say any of that. The Redcap would appreciate the honesty, but he wouldn’t have anything to do about them. They both felt the same in different places, which made that topic too raw and vulnerable to creatures used to living near beings who would exploit that ruthlessly. 

On top of that, just because he had an agreement with the Redcap, it didn’t mean that this weakness wouldn’t be explored by him as well. It was what the Fae had to do in order to survive at all. That was even more essential to a dying creature such as the last Redcap ever. 

“It’s what hearts do,” Andrew told him instead, and went back to walking towards the edge of both worlds, and his uncertain future. 

* * *

Aaron was supposed to be the one who would live with the Fae for fifteen years, not Andrew. 

It wasn’t a difficult case to argue, though. Andrew would have thought that the Fae who had made an agreement with Aaron would be much more insistent about making sure Aaron stuck with his part of it, but no. The creature didn’t care if it was Andrew, Aaron or an unconscious nobody: as long as someone entered the fairy ring and “served as her weaver for fifteen human years”, everything was absofuckinglutely dandy. The creature had even given Andrew three days and three nights to prepare for whatever he thought he’d need. 

“Why are you doing this?” Aaron had spit out at Andrew on his last night, forcibly grabbing the book Andrew had been trying to read. It was as if Aaron couldn’t understand that Andrew was ignoring his screaming _on purpose_. “It’s my debt. I was the one who wanted to bring mom back.” 

Andrew stared at him, but didn’t reply. Aaron looked like he wanted to hear something, but Andrew didn’t know what it was, so Andrew couldn’t tell him. Probably wouldn’t even if he had known what it was. If Aaron couldn’t figure out for himself why the fuck Andrew would throw fifteen years of his own life away instead of letting Aaron do it, then that wasn’t Andrew’s burden to bear. Andrew wasn’t responsible for his brother’s stupidity, especially since it was clearly very large. 

“Aaron…” Nicky started, but promptly closed his mouth with a loud _click_ as soon as Andrew’s eyes landed on him. 

The way Nicky reacted to Andrew felt like novelty. Mainly because Andrew never would have thought that someone would look at him like he was the monster, but it made sense, in a way. Nicky had dealt with a different breed of monsters for all of his life. Andrew didn’t expect him to recognize right away that Andrew wasn’t the top of all predators, but a mid-level one. Someone who would still register as prey to too many. 

Aaron was quickly learning to look at Andrew the same way Nicky did, and that was unbearable. Not for sentimental reasons—well. That was kinda… well, a little of lie. Aaron now looked at Andrew like he didn’t know what the next attack would be. Maybe because Andrew had kept his word, but Aaron didn’t want to see that that was what he’d done. Aaron didn’t seem to want to confirm that Andrew had actually done something to his mother. Since Aaron received the news that Andrew was in a hospital and his mother in a morgue, Aaron looked at Andrew with a range of emotions, but no questions to be confirmed. 

He could come to the correct conclusion easily, but… As already stated, Andrew didn’t think much of Aaron’s intellect. 

That last night was the closest to his breaking point that Andrew had even seen Aaron get. Aaron’s eyes kept jumping between Nicky and Andrew. He looked cornered. “What, Nicky?! Am I bothering you? Is it a crime to want fucking answers?” 

“No, it isn’t, but I have no clue why you think screaming will get you what you want.” Nicky sighed and got up to leave the room. For the last three days, he had tried to be patient with the twins, clearly assigning their feud to grief-related angst. Aaron hadn’t told him everything that had happened, Andrew knew. He thought that at least Nicky would be relieved when Andrew disappeared, probably thinking Andrew had just ran away. 

Aaron would probably never tell the truth. 

Andrew doubted it would be because he felt that Nicky would have judged his choice of seeking “pagan” magic to help bring Tilda back. No, Aaron probably just wouldn’t want Nicky to know what was happening out of some displaced sentiment of _protection_ towards his cousin. 

It was what made it almost laughable to Andrew that Aaron still couldn’t see why Andrew was currently devouring anything that even mentioned faeries. Aaron could try his hand at protectiveness, but couldn’t recognize it in others. 

It didn’t matter, though. Aaron was largely delusional about his ability of _surviving_ amongst the Fae, and Andrew could make sure that he wouldn’t lose his lifetime—or worse—because of another mistake. Aaron had been so easily tricked into believing that the Fae could really bring the dead back… They would fucking eat him alive in the first six months, let alone more than a decade. 

“Maybe because _asking_ hasn’t got me nowhere!” Aaron screamed, bringing Andrew out of his introspection so Andrew could stare intently at Aaron and Nicky, who had frozen on his way out. 

Aaron looked uncomfortable, but mad enough to stand his ground, for once. Andrew, on the other hand, just felt mildly amused by Aaron’s concept of “asking” because _not once_ had Aaron truly asked why Andrew was going in his place. He’d demanded, sure, but never asked. 

It wasn’t asking if you didn’t give the person room to refuse giving an answer. It wasn’t asking if the person’s only option to refuse giving you what you wanted was to remain _silent._

That was another reason why Aaron couldn’t go to live with the Fair Folk. He simply didn’t understand how to play the intricate game of communicating with Andrew, let alone creatures who had been playing with human languages since who fucking knew when. Just the many subtle, unspoken rules of the Fae society would trip him up. 

Nicky didn’t reply to Aaron’s tantrum as left the room, clearly done supervising them, although Andrew could read in the lines of his shoulders that he would listen attentively, probably to intervene if they were to kill each other, or something like it. Aaron watched him go, and Andrew watched Aaron. 

Aaron wasn’t what Andrew expected, but he was what Andrew had. All that he had, although Andrew couldn’t say that blood relations mattered all that much to him. 

Would Andrew have chosen differently in the many, many choices that had brought him to this situation if he’d known? Not only what he’d done to be sent to juvie and why, but also the promise he’d made to Aaron? 

Andrew had traded the amount of pain and suffering of living with Cass, wanting to be wanted by her, for the more unsure future of saving his brother from Drake _and_ trying to find someone somewhere else who might want him, even a little. Even if it was just crumbs of airy bread, or a misplaced fantasy. Aaron had sounded like he could reach that point in some letters, even after Andrew rejected him so thoroughly. 

Andrew doubted Aaron wanted anything to do with him for much longer, even if he didn’t have confirmation for how accidental his mother’s death had been. 

That was why it was perfect for Andrew to go in Aaron’s place. Aaron could go back to a world where his twin brother didn’t exist, he would probably be safe from any Spears poking around to consume his will to live, and Andrew wouldn’t have to feel splinters and salt water burning under his fingernails as he tried to cling desperately to the wood raft that bobbed in front of him. The only thing Andrew could focus on so he wouldn’t drift away. 

It was possible that trying too hard to find something, someone that _wanted_ him, was what kept getting him in these situations. Therefore, going to live amongst Faeries for 15 years would probably feel like a cruise vacation for Andrew. No longer a castaway adrift, just… a tourist on a boat that floated in the sea, the course at the hands of the Captain and the sea herself. 

It would also mean that he wasn’t going against his promise, which was nice enough. He _would_ protect Aaron, even if it was from his own dumb decisions. Even if it was at Andrew’s own expense. Fifteen years would probably go by quickly. 

“I refuse to feel grateful to you,” Aaron told him after a long time of silence. 

Andrew wanted to scoff, but it would be useless. If Aaron couldn’t understand that Andrew didn’t do things for _gratitude_ , he would definitely find a way to distort Andrew’s scoff to some kind of personal attack. Let him stomp away in anger from being ignored. 

To Andrew, reading about what he might find useful in the next fifteen years was much more productive. 

* * *

Once upon a time, the Faeries had loved to play and tease and obliterate humans, not because they had to, but because it was fun. 

Andrew hadn’t expected to be left alone, but he was, most of the time. Andrew couldn’t possibly know exactly when or why, but the Fae were exactly like he thought they would be, but also absolutely more passive, disinterested than most stories described them. 

Some of them he could still identify, in a scientific sort of way. But others were a complete mystery. Skeletal, shadowy, ghost-like impressions of drawings Andrew had seen, but he couldn’t really say he knew with certainty they were the same creatures. Like catching the shape of a picture under a couple of sheets of tissue paper. 

It was impossible for him to get information out of the Fae as well. There were Fae who avoided him, skittish in their fear that he was powerful enough to make them vanish, which was the only reason Andrew had gotten for why the Faerie land wasn’t that connected to the human world anymore. There were Fae who thought he was beneath them and openly scorned the Fae who had made a deal with Aaron, although they never attacked her. 

And there were those who were Famine personified. Hungrier than anything Andrew had ever seen. Hungry enough that playing with their food wasn’t desirable. 

Andrew had never been more glad that he’d been able to steal some quality knives and had even been gifted an Iron one from Aaron’s—well… his, truly—employer, which was greatly appreciated whenever someone strange approached him. It was clearly the only thing that kept him safe in Fae land. 

Safe-ish. 

He didn’t know whether it was luck or a setup that he was there to witness the Redcap being beaten halfway to— _not_ death. Turns out the Fair Folk truly were immortal. 

Which obviously didn’t mean that the Redcap was immune to pain as two Faes—shiny in their perfection, magic clearly not affected by their lack of humans to feed upon—held him down and a third one, whipped him with a sliver of smokey shadow, his cloak made of black feathers shining iridescent hues under the sun. 

Andrew knew enough to point out that the two holding the Redcap were Seelie and the other was Unseelie. He had been a little surprised when he realized that the Fae didn’t divide themselves into Courts anymore, but rather into two distinct groups: the dying ones and the ones who were fine with some sacrifices so they could continue, even if losing some of them meant the loss of some magic. 

The Redcap, as the last of his kind, had his place more than marked in the first group. The fact that he was currently being beaten up was also a huge clue. 

Andrew couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but he knew what the illogical hatred that motivated them, rooted in finding someone who didn’t _belong_. Andrew had been the target of that particular hatred too many times not to know what it looked like. 

Maybe that was why he grabbed a perfectly sized boulder off the ground and chucked it straight into the back of the Unseelie fucker, who yelped louder than Andrew thought he would. Andrew almost chuckled, but then the Unseelie was marching towards him, whip held to the side, and Andrew knew that his deal with his employer would only keep him _somewhat_ safe. Aaron’s agreement had involved no killing and a way to be able to tell human years apart. Aaron gratefully hadn’t been _too_ stupid, but still. 

There was a lot of room between not killing and being alive, though. 

Andrew readied his knives, which made the Unseelie pause and show his teeth. Andrew kept himself calm and focused, uninterested in fucking this up. 

“This does not concern you,” the Unseelie hissed, more because of the tusks protruding from his face than just because of anger. 

Andrew couldn’t deny the validity of that statement. He couldn’t point out exactly what had made him act, other than the flimsy excuse that he could recognize what was burning behind the Redcap’s eyes as he gazed upon Andrew: there was no one interested in saving him for free. Every kindness had its price. 

The thing was, Andrew hadn’t _thought_. At all. Since he’d arrived, he had been refusing food that anyone offered him and he would go scavenging for food the entire day and work by night, which was when the magic of the agreement would fill him up. There wasn’t _logic_ , just reaction, because if Andrew had thought about it, he wouldn’t really have done it. It wasn’t his business, and Faeries couldn’t die from a beating. 

He had involved himself, however. Therefore, Andrew had to find a way to get the hell out of there. 

Andrew stepped forward and stabbed the Unseelie on his stomach, too fast to be blocked. It helped that this Unseelie, like many of the scornful sort, clearly hadn’t expected Andrew to react at all and had turned his gaze away from Andrew as soon as he was done saying his message to him. Andrew wasn’t enough of a treat to many of them, especially when they hadn’t even touched him at all, just looked at him funny. 

It wasn’t Andrew’s fault that they clearly didn’t care for their own well-being and _assumed_ the things he would do. 

The other Seelies immediately dropped the Redcap like a sack of potatoes and hurried to get away from Andrew as fast as they could. Both the Redcap and the Unseelie didn’t move for a while, but Andrew didn’t want to stick around and figure out who would recover first—especially since the wound in the Unseelie’s stomach was gurgling in a vibrant shade of green. 

Unfortunately, the path he had to follow to reach the patch of woods where he searched for food took him near the Redcap’s splayed body, who watched Andrew as he walked away. The Redcap seemed more winded than completely incapacitated, so Andrew believed he would be fine, probably. 

Andrew stopped thinking about them as soon as they had left his vision. He had to find something to eat, after all, just to quiet the snarling void in his stomach. Eating berries, leaves and roots and everything else he _thought_ was edible had already gotten him in trouble sometimes, but not badly enough to kill. 

There was no room to worry about people who would kill them if they could when his hunger was eating him from the inside. 

* * *

When Andrew learned that the Redcap had been targeted because he had been overheard _wondering about Andrew’s life,_ he didn’t really know what to think about or, or feel. 

He hadn’t expected it, so it made sense that it’d surprised him. However, he didn’t truly feel _responsible_ at all. He didn’t force the Redcap to wonder about him at all, in any way. 

Andrew also didn’t know how reliable the information was, since it’d come from the Redcap himself. 

“—then he punched me and said, ‘you are already nothing more than a miserable, unimportant, half-dead bloodsucker who shouldn’t even be alive, do you truly need to diminish the Faes reputation by being _interested_ in the Human?’” The Redcap had been babbling for a while, and Andrew was sure he must be using some kind of magic to burst Andrew’s focus whenever he successfully tuned his voice out. “And although I could see his point—which, I need to point out, his speech mimicked the ones I used to hear often from my late Father, it almost felt nostalgic—but _my_ point is there’s also the fact that it’s been _forever_ since I saw a human, you know? Have I mentioned that your heartbeat thrums over the entire place when you are in public? It’s incredibly distracting to me, I just want to get the closest heavy object and crack open your cran—” 

“That would lead to death,” Andrew’s employer said. “You are aware that he cannot be killed.” 

“Can I argue the semantics of that? Because we all know he’s entirely mortal,” the Redcap made a gesture that was big and flashy and very much uncoordinated. He lost lis balance and fell to the ground, bringing himself back up in less than half a second. “He can be killed, oh so very much.” 

Andrew kept himself quiet through the whole thing. The less he talked to the Fae, the higher his chances of surviving his fifteen years were, after all. However, they couldn’t read his thoughts, so he was free to analyze how the Redcap’s mental instability could probably be traced to the way his eyes tracked Andrew’s neck attentively. A cat observing a caged bird. 

The bird in this case being _not_ Andrew himself, but his pulse. 

Andrew knew Redcaps were supposed to survive by soaking their caps of their victims in blood. If the brownish tint of the cap on the Redcap’s head was a trustworthy sign, Andrew would assume it had been a while since his last dip. It was peculiar how not only his cap seemed old and faded, but the Redcap’s _everything_ seemed to be going to softer, muted shades as well. His skin was a sickly gray color, his dark red hair clumped together with no shine. Only his eyes seemed to have a somewhat normal color: the palest of blues, almost completely faded. A step away from being filled with clouds full of the heaviest rains. The Redcap looked like an old photo that forgot he wasn’t supposed to last forever. 

“You do not have my permission to bring harm to him, Redcap,” Andrew’s employee flicked her rainbow hair back and splashed a bit of water onto Andrew’s shoes, who didn’t even flinch at the wetness of his socks. “There would be nobody to fix my nets, then.” 

“Makes sense, I guess. But also, Asrai… you can hear it, can’t you?” The Redcap’s voice sounded awed, if a little unhinged. Andrew’s employee paused and gazed fixedly at the Redcap, so Andrew paused his knotting of seaweeds and looked up. The Redcap was watching Andrew’s with a serious expression. He looked _almost_ normal. “His heartbeat is calling me.” 

“I hear nothing,” Andrew’s employer said, smiling. “You should get that checked. It does not sound healthy.” 

The Redcap's serious expression changed little, other than the displeased curl of his lips’ corners. 

“Maybe you are right,” The Redcap replied and disappeared into the night. 

* * *

Andrew saw the Redcap three more times when he was out and about, and only on the fourth one he’d been able to corner Andrew when absolutely alone. 

Andrew wasn’t worried about his own safety, even though the Redcap looked as unhealthy as ever. Maybe the Redcap remembered, like so many Faeries had after the Unseelie’s sick body had been found and treated, that Andrew wasn’t squeamish about making new holes in them. The Redcap stopped a healthy distance away from Andrew and ignored his growling stomach. 

“What a surprise to see you here, so near my home.” The Redcap smiled. They both knew this was a good distance away from the ruins of a castle the Redcap called home. 

Andrew didn’t say anything, but the Redcap didn’t need him to. “I know that humanity has changed considerably since we left it, but you seem to have come here with _some_ knowledge of how we work. Especially of some specific rules, if your constant rummaging for food is any indication.” 

Andrew could only be thankful that his stomach was merciful enough to stay as quiet as Andrew himself this time, even if he could recognize it would’ve been comical if it had made its presence and complaints known. 

“Do you know about the rumors of our aversion towards being indebted?” the Redcap asked, eyes burning like the coldest of fires. Andrew didn’t even bother to nod his head. “You probably do, but I’m here to say that they are true. And I do not like that not only you saved my life, but you also have not yet approached me to collect your debt.” 

“Your life wasn’t in danger,” Andrew said, and his voice was nothing but the growliness of those who hadn’t spoken in weeks. It almost hurt to clean his throat, but he did it. “That Fae couldn’t kill you without having to accept the loss of even more magic.” 

“I do not argue semantics,” The Redcap said, and Andrew only raised his eyebrows in response. That was a sweet change of hearts, after only a handful of days. “It also does not change the fact that I very much owe you, and I dislike that heavily.” 

“If I name a price for an agreement, will you stop following me like a hungry shadow everywhere?” 

“Hmmm… What do you have in mind?” 

Andrew’s brain zoomed through his options, but he had some priorities. “You will protect me from any harm, of any kind,” Andrew drawled, and the Redcap seemed ready to protest—it was too broad of a request—until Andrew kept going. “And in exchange, when my fifteen years are over, I will donate 500 milliliters of my own blood to you.” 

The snap of the Redcap’s mouth was loud in the clearing's silence, where Andrew usually searched for food because some would appear almost every day. The hunger in Redcap’s eyes, however, was louder than anything else. 

“I accept,” The Redcap said, clearly not even stopping to think about it. 

Andrew nodded at him and relaxed—just a little. “Show me what foods are safe for me to eat, that also won’t get me stuck in this land forever.” 

The Redcap didn’t even think about it before walking a little into the woods and leading Andrew to a tiny tree with weird fruits. 

Andrew ate as many of them as he could and felt fine for the first time since he’d arrived two months ago. He would have felt bad about the Redcap’s fate, since Andrew could quickly think of a few situations where this agreement could go badly for the Redcap, but he was more relieved that he would finally stop feeling like his body was ready to keel over, only to be filled once more by magic at the end of the day, since he wasn’t allowed to die. 

Andrew would live. 

Aaron wouldn’t have to come here to finish his punishment. 

The Redcap would hopefully feel satisfied at the end of these fifteen years. 

A win-win situation for everyone, if everyone was more than hopeful. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  my giftee told me that I could take my time writing this but 🥺 that goes against 🥺 the guilty feelings I was having 🥺 over not posting on time for the end of the event 🥺 So have the last chapter instead, although I'm not wholly satisfied with the pacing! lmao  
>   
> WARNING: the tag Ritualistic Self-Harm has been added.  
> 

There were things Andrew had expected from making a deal of his own with a Faerie, of course. 

To begin with, he’d thought there would have been more arguing about his demands. Maybe deep weariness towards the Redcap and his motivations, the same kind that was an old friend in his life, born out of necessity for how his life tended to be, as a rule, shitty. 

And while he couldn’t help but feel suspicious whenever the Redcap stopped and looked at him for too long—even without the comments about his heartbeat, the rushing of his blood, or the frankly tiresome ordeal that was the Redcap trying to embarrass him so he could smell and _see_ the blood under Andrew’s skin—Andrew found himself _not_ worried about the Redcap’s intentions. Andrew couldn’t _fear_ for his health near him. 

Not because he didn’t believe the Redcap was dangerous; he wasn’t that stupid. But the Redcap didn’t set off any of the many, many alarms Andrew had built deep into his subconscious. 

Andrew didn’t let that mean nothing, though. To think that the Redcap was more harmless than he’d initially thought might lead to him unthinkingly lowering his defenses, and _that_ would be truly stupid of him. 

So he let the Redcap make as many comments as he wanted about what he thought about Andrew—and Andrew’s blood and Andrew’s heart and whatever else he wanted. It didn’t carry any weight at all, or at least not the dangerous kind of weight Andrew knew to be weary of. 

Besides, the Redcap had promised to protect Andrew from any harm of any kind. That included the Redcap himself. 

It would have been naïve to believe in that promise without proof, but Andrew didn’t need to look deep into the Redcap to understand they had similar philosophies. To creatures with nothing inherently valuable to protect themselves, words and promises they proffer should always be kept. It’s the last warning and valuable thing they have: the threat that they will go through with whatever they say, and they will mean it. 

Unfortunately for the Redcap, there were many ways that Andrew could claim he needed protection. 

The Redcap had tried to protest, feebly. “How will having or not having the knowledge of our history cause you harm?” 

“How can the lion scare away the fox traps? How can the fox cleverly disarm the pack of wolves?” 

“They are different dangers,” The Redcap said, and Andrew could almost see his pale, bloodless skin overheating near his temples. It was clear that the Redcap had been a hungry creature for too long, brain unused to challenges. “The lion by itself can’t figure out traps and the fox by itself will never scare away an entire pack.” 

“You gotta be both,” Andrew completed, nodding. “You have to have as much as you can hold, and recognize where your tapestry of knowledge has holes.” 

The Redcap squinted at him. “That does not mean you _need_ to know.” 

“Can you guarantee that?” 

And the Redcap couldn’t. 

Andrew knew he wasn’t told the entire story of course, but it was finally enough to snip away at the stitches holding the lace of the History of Faerie land to the backing cloth of time. 

The Faeries had truly gone into hiding from fear of how fast human technology was developing—without the need for magic. Without the healthy fear and _reverence_ they once held for any kind of Fae. 

The blurring of the Courts hadn’t been intentional, that much was clear. The Redcap didn’t dive into it, but it was clear that each Court had promised something different. 

“The Unseelie royals had promised to us we would be allowed to go out if we had something that might tempt humans but not endanger Faerie land,” the Redcap said and, for the first time, Andrew could identify clear bitterness in his voice instead of the hushed scrambled emotions that battled for the Redcap’s attention. 

“And who is to judge who can do that?” Andrew asked, and the Redcap’s smile was enough of an answer. 

There were other advantages of their deal. Andrew didn’t have to stumble over the skirts of Fae land, trying to find the clearing as fast as possible before his stomach cramped horribly. The Redcap’s first priority after Andrew was finished with his six hours of weaving was to take Andrew to safe bushes and lakes. Watch fixedly as Andrew ate as much as he wanted. 

There was no jealousy in the Redcap’s eyes, only a rapt sort of focus that would unsettle Andrew if he didn’t know how it felt to watch others have the things that could save you, and be unable to do anything but watch and wish. 

They balanced each other well, though. Andrew didn’t step too far off the evident lines he could see, and the Redcap just kept on being his weird little self. 

Their balance got threatened by unwanted complications when the Redcap’s… friends? Acquaintances? Realized that a deal had happened. Andrew fully expected to be chewed on, verbally if not physically, when they all came to the Asrai’s shore one night while Andrew worked, but… it didn’t happen. Not after they detangled some of their misunderstandings. 

None of them were creatures quite like the Redcap, although they were all rejects of the Faerie land—for being too weak, too unimportant without humans to lend them power, too insignificant to Faeries (although not to the land), or too self-sufficient. 

Also too human, apparently. 

“I’m not _fully_ human _,_ of course,” Call-Me-Matt said, pointing out his ears and his limbs, slightly elongated. Not enough to be weird, but enough that his tall figure looked a little off if you stared at him for long. “Can’t lie as well. But I’m human enough to be… undesirable.” 

They all looked more human-like than Andrew had been expecting, but then… Andrew hadn’t exposed himself to the most charismatic of the Faes in his three days of research. But maybe there was something that Andrew was missing. Maybe they would have looked different in the human world, with no Faerie land to help them preserve their energies. 

(Andrew tried not to think about how they looked more human, _especially_ because of their height: all of them were taller than Andrew. Even the Redcap, although he walked around half-hunched on himself, his brown cap constantly being readjusted.) 

“Heard you wanted to party with the monsters?” was the first thing the Winter-themed sprite that had watched Andrew from a distance said to him, shaking her shockingly white hair and making snowflakes fall from it. The Redcap, the half-human Fae and a Selkie had been talking Andrew’s ear off about nothing important, but they quieted down for a few seconds after the sprite’s appearance. 

Unfortunately, they were not quiet for long. 

“I am not that stupid,” Andrew told the sprite who smiled at him—coldly, pearly white teeth translucent as if made of frosty ice. 

“Try to remember that whenever you think about using him—” a tiny nod towards the Redcap. “—as your shield.” 

Then she sat near the others and watched as Andrew loaded weed after weed on the ground to be dried in the sun when the day came again in a few hours—then watched as he cut the already dried weed into thin ribbons to be knotted together to make the nets he would do for fifteen years. 

Andrew didn’t trust any of them. They watched him as if waiting for him to draw the weapons he had at any minute. As if waiting for the cruelty towards his friend to start. They didn’t think he was that smart, that much was clear, but they also couldn’t do anything to make him disappear without going against two different deals. 

They begrudgingly accepted him between them. 

Andrew did the same back. With time, it was easier to not be on edge when they were around but he didn’t trust them and spoke little. 

He understood their worry, even if he thought it was unnecessary. They were just trying to protect one of their own, who had fallen into a quite unfortunate deal. 

Andrew could respect that, in a manner. 

(And maybe, just a tiny bit of him, was glad that the Redcap wasn’t completely adrift. That in this world, those who didn’t really belong kept themselves accounted for.) 

* * *

Of course, the tentative peace they had quietly cultivated between them themselves didn’t last for long. 

At least, Andrew and the Redcap had the comfort of knowing it wasn’t because of one of them creating beef with the other. The Faeries that Andrew constantly interacted with in his first year all gravitated around the Redcap. They also didn’t have interest in creating any sort of fight with Andrew, knowing that the Redcap would have to intervene. 

So it made sense that _he_ fucking came back around. 

It had actually taken longer than Andrew thought it would for the Unseelie asshole to talk to them directly, instead of only glaring from a distance. If going by the fact that Andrew had never seen the other two Seelies around him again, Andrew would bet actual money that he didn’t have that the Unseelie asshole didn’t want to approach the Redcap without having someone holding him down. 

Andrew’s first year went by and the Unseelie did nothing. 

Until he appeared in the clearing while Andrew was eating tiny rainbow berries like there was no tomorrow as the Redcap watched Andrew with a mix of softness and something hungrier. Then the scoff came and both of them turned to the sound, confused. The Faeries _never_ came around here when Andrew was around. Either by disgusted principle, by fear or by disinterest. 

But there he was. The Unseelie asshole, in all his feathery-cloak unglory. Glaring at them, but glaring _specially_ at the Redcap. 

“What a disgusting filthy creature you are.” The Unseelie had his lips curled from revulsion. Andrew almost thought that he was funny though, especially when one were to take into consideration how much more disgusting the Unseelie was inherently. “Even your mother didn’t drop this low. I don’t know if she would have been glad or ashamed that you are the only one left.” 

Andrew immediately looked at the ground, uninterested in watching the Unseelie. He had seen it a few minutes ago and had thought it had an appropriate size for— 

Ah, there it was. 

Andrew offered the boulder to the Redcap. 

“You did well on your own the last time,” the Redcap said. 

“Your aim is better,” Andrew replied and sat back down to keep eating his berries, because it was true. Andrew didn’t really have trouble with Faeries coming to bother him, not really, but now he had even less of them looking at him as if his existence offended them. The Redcap had taken to stone down anyone who looked at Andrew a little funny, “for his protection”. Andrew thought he was just bored or wanting to practice skills he hadn’t had much use in a long time, but what did he know. 

He was just glad to be of assistance, specifically in this situation. 

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary this time.” 

The Unseelie had been watching them, impatiently, but still faraway. Pathetic. 

“You know, I get it,” the Redcap said, with the airs of someone who was only getting started, and the Unseelie frowned at him. As if it was a novelty. As if he expected the Redcap to say nothing back. 

_Maybe because he didn’t use to_ , a voice at the back of Andrew’s head told him and it sounded plausible. Even more plausible as Andrew watched the Unseelie’s expression changing with each of the Redcap’s words. 

“Not being the leader of the Wild Hunt must be really, really difficult for you. Now you’re not even a commodity, almost just a human being—no offense meant to you, Human, whatever your name is—not a single person in your little bundle of ‘royalty’ thinking you’re worth anything anymore—” 

Andrew couldn’t understand what else the Redcap was saying because he changed languages, but from the look on the Unseelie’s face, it was either rude or exactly the spear able to kill him—unfortunately not physically. 

It seemed like the Redcap had a lot to say. Andrew couldn’t imagine how long he’d been holding all of it in or how much he was actually enjoying it now. That was, until Andrew thought of everything he’d once wanted to say—when he was still young enough to think begging would save him, when he was still young enough to think someone would help if he spoke about it. Andrew used to have fantasies where he would go off on the petty abusers of his childhood, fantasies he never played out because he wouldn’t have anywhere to go, but right then he realized that… no. He understood perfectly that it didn’t matter how long it had been; sometimes, the satisfaction of not keeping things only in the imagination realm was really _that_ good. 

Andrew had given up on talking back a long time ago, but he watched and pondered on it as the Redcap finally finished speaking and eagerly waited for the Unseelie to unglue his jaw, tusks quivering from anger. 

The Unseelie pulled two wicked long knives from somewhere under his cloak, blades red and shiny under the soft sunlight. The Redcap got to his feet and extended a hand towards the blade that immediately started bleeding. 

“You forget everything so easily,” the Redcap said as the Unseelie stopped in his tracks, looking down at the blood pooling near his naked feet. 

“We should schedule some time to talk,” the Unseelie growled. “Just us, no humans in sight to be hurt.” 

“That would leave the human out of sight and easily in the way of being hurt by something while I’m not there to protect him,” The Redcap replied with a convincing enough apologetic tone, that fooled absolutely no one. 

“I’ll come back later, after he is gone. It doesn’t matter how long he is around,” The Unseelie promised and walked out. 

“I’ll miss you until then!” The Redcap said, sending a kiss towards the Unseelie’s back with a lovesick fool’s expression on his face. 

“I’m done,” Andrew said, and the Redcap turned to him, still looking like a fool. Andrew wanted to comment on it, or maybe start a conversation about what the Redcap would do in fifteen years if the Unseelie came back (Andrew knew it was a when, not an if), but the Redcap didn’t give him time. 

“Oh, your pulse sounds quite lovely right now. Were you scared?” 

Was Andrew scared? 

Andrew thought about what would happen in fifteen years, after he gave his promised blood. Would that be enough to make the Redcap want to fight against whatever slag army the Unseelie was able to form? Whatever this petty feud was about, it was much older than Andrew himself. 

No. Andrew didn’t think he felt anything close to _scared,_ per se. 

But he was definitely feeling something. It felt closer to what he imagined it would feel to have pride over seeing someone he cared about doing a good job at something. 

“Not scared,” Andrew replied though, and let the Redcap tease him and even get too close ‘to feel his warmth’. 

Andrew wasn’t in danger here. There was no reason to be afraid. 

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a doppelganger boy—a cloned, unwanted version of a real boy—who was whisked away to a faraway land. He had expected to be treated just as he had always been—a “notbelongy” sort of way. A “yourworthisminimaltonone” manner—but he had never expected to be adopted by other notbelongy people. 

Maybe he should have. It would have been smart of him to prepare for many situations. But he wasn’t a lion, or a fox, or a real boy—he was just a notbelongy boy who had never seen other notbelongy people before. 

It was difficult to believe they existed. Harder because they were from different worlds and well… who knows. Maybe they belonged in the boy’s world, but not in their own. Maybe the boy truly was the only notbelongy person and they just didn’t know it. 

It was difficult to believe they wouldn’t treat him in the same “yourworthisminimaltonone” manner. They actually did, in the beginning. 

But one of the notbelongy people never did. 

And the others followed his example. 

* * *

“When will you give me your name?” the Redcap asked one day, as Andrew ate another sort of fruit—round, gigantic, but it tasted like almost-chocolate, so Andrew didn’t feel as wary about eating this one. It didn’t help that it had been almost a year and a half of eating whatever the Redcap pointed out as safe. 

When he heard that question though, Andrew _had to_ pause. He turned to look at the Redcap with a deliberate slowness. The Redcap just kept on grinning. “I should know the name of the human whose heartbeat has ensnared my attention,” he argued. 

“I won’t ever give you my name,” Andrew drawled, still looking at the Redcap as if trying to solve him. That couldn’t have been a truthful ruse. He was being mocked, he knew that, but he didn’t understand why. “But you may call me Andrew.” 

“Brilliant name! Sounds very modern, I’m sure,” the Redcap have Andrew a mock-salute, bowing right after it. “Since our deal was conducted so expertly by you, I think it is only fair to let you call me by something that reflects it, hmm? How about you call me your Champion?” 

“Very on the nose,” Andrew said, which made the Redcap laugh. 

Andrew couldn’t laugh, though. It would have felt insensitive. The Redcap had already lost enough by making a hasty deal with Andrew where he explored a very obvious weakness, and would keep losing more, clearly. 

Without knowing the Redcap’s name, Andrew couldn’t truly promise anyone that he would remember him. And, although he called the Redcap his Champion occasionally, he never did so in his head. Not only because it wouldn’t be prudent to forget what the Redcap was, but because he _should_ be remembered by as many people as possible. 

And Andrew should always remember that no matter what happened, the Redcap had done _nothing_ to deserve his fate. There was no reason to punish him for anything or treat him as lesser than. He hadn’t taken too long to understand that. 

Of course, that didn’t mean the rest of Faerie land _knew_ he had thoughts about it. 

* * *

Andrew didn’t expect that one of the sometimes mentioned, but never before _seen_ Princes of the extinct Courts would come and talk to _him_ about the Redcap. 

Mostly because he hadn’t expected someone who was supposed to be _so_ important for this society to care about a deal that might screw one of theirs over. It didn’t help that Andrew had seen very little care come towards the Redcap’s way. Could’ve been projecting, could’ve been just a dumb human assuming all societies worked the same, but it didn’t change the fact that when the Asrai came to interrupt him in the middle of weaving, Andrew was… confused. A little surprised. 

That the Asrai left him _alone_ with the Prince (and didn’t even call the Redcap from wherever he went when Andrew was working and he felt like having six hours for himself) was even more surprising. It meant that Andrew had no reasons to think he would be hurt during this conversation, but still… 

“You know why I am here,” the Prince said, green eyes glinting like a pair of jade stones, brighter than any normal eyes would be under the moonlight. 

Andrew didn’t reply, though. He didn’t know why at all and wouldn’t pretend otherwise. 

“You have not been here for even a sizable fraction of your sentence, and you already have many Faeries scheming to get you out of here, or Faeries betting on how long it takes for you to kill our last Redcap by… protecting you.” The Prince’s voice made it clear that he didn’t see Andrew as worthy of that kind of sacrifice. A half-hearted shrug was the only answer Andrew planned on giving the Prince though, who looked down at Andrew as the silence stretched between them with mild exasperation. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation you are in…” 

The Prince kneeled in front of Andrew, which was good for him because it made him tower over Andrew less, and that was a good way to keep yourself unstabbed around Andrew, but it didn’t endear him to Andrew at all. He had zero interest in the conversation happening, and in the way the Prince reeked of fear, _a lot_ of it. So much that the Prince wasn’t even hiding. 

“There are whispers about how dangerous you are for the safety of our world. You managed to make two deals in such a short period of time. How many more deals will you be able to treacherously get from one of ours? Will you force us to invite humans on Faerie land? How long until they all wipe all of us—” 

“Why should I care about how… xenophobic this whole auto-exile thing made all of you be, enough that you automatically assume I’m nothing but a Trojan Horse?” Andrew interrupted him and, at the Prince’s confused look, Andrew sighed. “Why should I care about how delusional this auto-exile has turned all of you that you think someone who’s simply keeping their words is coming here to dismantle all of you from the inside?” 

“You should care because of how you could completely turn one of ours into some kind of _Un-Fae_ thing.” The Prince for a moment looked frustrated over having to even _explain_ this, but Andrew didn’t care about whatever he felt. He still didn’t really get why this was so important. “We all knew that the Redcap had been slowly going mad without... proper feeding, but he didn’t even _argue_ with you for a better deal, did he? He just accepted the infinitesimal amount of blood you offered because he _needed_ it. Even if it was almost insignificant. He has fallen into the trap of a _human_.” 

Andrew didn’t know how the Prince knew about their deal. Andrew knew that the Redcap _probably_ didn’t tell him, but Andrew couldn’t see why. It was probably one of those situations where he didn’t have all the facts, but it also wouldn’t change much if he knew what was the relation between the Prince and the Redcap. 

It was a bit funny that the Faeries thought _Andrew_ was dangerous to them, though. 

“There are Faeries scared that I might do that to them,” Andrew said, slowly, and the Prince nodded only once, jaw tight. Andrew looked at the anxiety waves that were almost visible as they came out of the Prince and wanted to roll his eyes. “That’s still not my problem. They can’t do anything while I’m tied to the Redcap _and_ the Asrai, but even better than that, there’s a very easy way for them to verify I won’t do shit to them: _fucking time_. With time, they will realize that if they leave me alone, I’ll leave them alone.” 

“That’s not how—” 

“It works, yeah, whatever,” Andrew threw the net in his hand away and prodded the Prince’s chest with an accusing finger. The Prince looked down at it immediately, as if he never expected that to happen or as if he was verifying his chest was still intact. Andrew rolled his eyes then. “What are _you_ going to do about it, though? Are you going to let the Fae become so obviously un-Fae like that they will try to interfere in other people’s deals—wait a minute.” Andrew fake-gasped and the Prince looked more and more frustrated with him. “You are already doing that, so… should I consider this the beginning of my reign over Faerie land, or whatever?” 

“Do not joke about it,” The Prince looked actually terrified. “If any of them hear that...” 

“Make sure they listen to this: it happened to the Redcap because he was _vulnerable_. And he was vulnerable because you let him be like that.” The Prince froze in place and Andrew took a few seconds to realize it was because Andrew was being obviously _angry_ over the Redcap’s situation _._ “You could all have made an effort to not let all Faeries die or get weakened or _desperate_ , but you didn’t. I was only able to get the Redcap indebted to me because I saved him from two Seelies and an Unseelie who was beating him up for… what? What do the ones not actively dying get out of hurting the ones that are? And why isn’t anyone doing anything about it? My _Champion_ can’t possibly be the only one.” 

“I feel like I should tell either of you that I am here, listening,” the Redcap’s voice sounded muffled from being outside, but still intelligible. “But I also feel like then I would have to give my own two cents, and I don’t know if I feel like being pitied today.” 

“You are speaking like a human,” The Prince commented, sounding disapproving. 

“I do spend an awfully long time with one,” the Redcap was finally in the doorway, looking down at them on the ground with mild interest. “What is this truly about, my Prince? If I may be so bold to ask.” 

The Prince gave a look towards Andrew and said something in the language Andrew didn’t speak. 

“So? Let him come.” The Redcap said and seemed amused at how startled the Prince was that he didn’t change languages as well. “Where were you and your worry in the last few centuries?” 

“Always here,” The Prince answered. 

“Telling me ‘I told you so, you should have kept yourself quiet’. The thing you don’t seem to realize is that my brain has been slowly eaten away. My body was indentured to hunger a long time ago, and it controls me like it controlled all the others. Matt’s blood keeps me alive but not sane. The human has not abused the deal so far and—” the Redcap finally paused and looked at Andrew for a few seconds. “I do not see him doing it. He does not care enough about being cruel for that.” 

“The answer is ‘I don’t care at all’, period,” Andrew commented dispassionately. 

The Redcap hummed at that, but didn’t agree or dispute. He looked at the Prince when he said, “You have him calling you his _Champion_ in public.” 

“I do,” The Redcap said, nodding. “He needs to call me by something, after all. Exile took away the ability of most of you to see a joke. With all due respect, you used to be a leader, my Prince. Someone able to not only deal with mindless gossip, but also to _lead by example._ ” 

At that, the Prince stood up to his full height, towering over both Andrew and the Redcap. 

“What are you going to do then, when he turns against you and abuses the deal? You left too much room for him to do it.” 

“Maybe I did, but it’s also the only thing that gives me all the motivation I need to keep myself as sane as I can.” The Redcap moved away from the door, so the Prince could pass. “And I will deal with it on my own, of course.” 

_Like I have been doing_ , they all heard go unsaid. 

The Prince made his hasty excuses and left them looking at one another for a few seconds. 

“Well, that was an interaction I’m glad I will forget,” The Redcap laughed a little and Andrew sighed as he went back to his previous task. “But the Prince might be correct. You might want to consider your safety a little. Especially when you leave here.” 

“I have considered,” Andrew said, without looking up. “There’s nothing to be worried about.” 

“That sounds irresponsible.” 

“Is it? Nothing will happen to me while I’m here and you are here. I can predict whether the situation will become worse or not in the subsequent years so… why worry about it?” 

The Redcap laughed at that, although he didn’t seem to find anything funny. Andrew heard his steps echoing as he approached and he wearily stopped weaving to look up at the Redcap’s serious face. 

“I like you all honest like that,” The Redcap said in a low voice. “But be honest to yourself: do you think I would have been open to this agreement without desperation? Do you think desperation is enough of a motivator to keep you safe?” 

Andrew’s lips twitched as he held back a mirthless smile. “Desperation always is enough of a motivator for anything. But in this case, I think I care more about my actions than mindless gossip. Besides, why would I have come here if I was that afraid to die?” 

The Redcap looked at Andrew for a few moments, head tilted to the side as he considered Andrew’s words. “It has been some time since I met a human that cared so little about their own health.” 

“I don’t need to worry about it,” Andrew drawled as his fingers started to work again. This conversation was at its end, and Andrew had things to do. “I have you feeding me, I have my agreement with the Asrai keeping my health perfect and I have both of you protecting me at different times, for different reasons. Besides, why should I care about the Unseelie or any other Faes are spreading about me? It’s not like they can get rid of me for the next 15 years.” 

“Humans are terrible at making deals. Makes it all the sweeter to get them to offer something first, and tie them to us with it at the end.” Andrew raised a single eyebrow without looking at the Redcap. He stayed quiet as he worked, but he could almost feel the physical weight of the Redcap’s gaze, who clearly waited for a reply. 

“Kinky,” was all Andrew said, and ignored each confused enquiry he received for the hours he had left to work. 

* * *

Andrew almost never visited the more populated parts of the Faerie land, and usually only when the Asrai came out to take him. Nobody explicitly said he couldn’t do it alone, but he had no curiosity for what happened there and it would just complicate everything, so he didn’t. 

However, the very next week after the Prince’s visit, the Redcap didn’t take him to the clearing to get whatever food had appeared there for the day, but instead he lead Andrew to what was the Faerie equivalent of a supermarket. 

The building had glass walls everywhere and had so many Faeries of so many kinds. The variety didn’t affect the reactions they both got, though: every single Fae looked like they thought neither Andrew nor the Redcap should have been there and that they were thinking about doing something about it. 

Andrew only briefly analyzed the Redcap and his posture, who was pretty much the perfect picture of someone unflapped by the weird vibe going on. With a sigh, Andrew followed him inside and they stopped at the stall where his Selkie friend and Matt were clearly working, both of them staring as well, but nothing like the other Faeries. 

The Redcap gestured for one of the items in a menu Andrew couldn’t read and said, “We want two of these.” 

It took a few seconds for the others to start moving to make their orders, but that was fine. It wasn’t like anybody near was doing anything important—or anything _at all_. The whole place had almost stopped as they all paid attention to the show happening. 

“You know, I still cannot believe what you humans have done with food services,” The Redcap commented, loudly enough that Andrew knew it wasn’t at him, even though the Redcap was looking at him. “You said that now you can just ask for food in your home and it will be delivered straight to you?” 

Andrew nodded slowly, still silent. He had said that—once in the beginning that felt like a long time ago, when he had unthinkingly said something about missing delivery food and the Redcap had pestered him until he explained what it was. 

As the Redcap kept talking about the “wonders of human’s modern cuisine” and sending yes or no questions towards Andrew’s way so they could be answered with a head gesture, Andrew couldn’t help but squint at the Redcap. He wasn’t subtle at all as he went on hyping up humans from the scraps that Andrew had fed him through the seasons. It was scary to realize how much the Redcap actually paid attention to the little that Andrew had ever told him, and it almost made Andrew feel _things_. _Consider_ the possibilities of what those feelings entailed. 

Andrew would burn himself alive before letting him think of them even for a second, though. 

As it was, the Redcap’s ruse shouldn’t have worked, but… it fucking _did_. 

As their food got ready, the Redcap kept his act of being fucking loud and started to ask questions about human things as they ate. Andrew replied to some of them, but quietly. He hadn’t volunteered to be part of this at all, so he wouldn’t help. The Redcap didn’t seem to care about repeating every single word he said louder. So all the Faeries around could hear them. 

The Redcap did that twice more—the first time, by taking Andrew to a clothing store, because the Asrai had asked for waterproof cloth and couldn’t go into sunlight to the Spider-creature weaver, obviously. Infuriatingly, the Redcap made it obvious that he “had noticed” that most of Andrew’s clothes looked and _felt_ different, so he had many questions (and praises) for their simple look and “obvious quality”. 

The second time, the Redcap took Andrew to a party thrown by the Prince, who simply watched as the Redcap kept _talking_ —about how humans did _this_ better, or did _that_ in a different, more incredible way. 

Andrew took part minimally in both situations, but the Redcap didn’t seem to need his help. It didn’t take long for Andrew to notice that the scared, disgusted looks stopped being focused on _him_ , and turned solely to the Redcap. 

The Redcap seemed satisfied with the scrutiny. Andrew imagined he was, since he had averted rumors of Andrew’s prowess as a manipulator by making it clear that the _Redcap_ had been interested in a human. He didn’t seem to care that most Faeries would disapprove of him even more now that he was so obviously amazed at a _human_. 

Even the Redcap’s friends started to participate in it, when they were in public with the Redcap—but also when there weren’t many people around or when it was just their usual little group. Andrew was always careful with what he told them, just in case it was a trap—but it never was. They seemed set to help the Redcap protect Andrew from the rumors—or maybe they just wanted to make it as obvious as possible that the Redcap wasn’t completely alone. 

The reason didn’t matter in the end, because the result was the same: The Redcap had diverted the dissent the Unseelie had tried to instigate, he had drawn the attention of their deal to _him_ and how the Faerie should keep looking down at him, and he didn’t seem to _care_ that his life would probably get worse—much worse—when this was all said and done. 

What would his friends be able to do? They clearly didn’t have much power to begin with, since all of them were also not quite well-seen by the most powerful of the Faeries. Whatever happened when Andrew left, they probably wouldn’t be able to make Faeries _care_ about keeping the last Redcap alive. 

There was another unforeseen consequence of making Andrew talk more: the Redcap’s friends seem to suspect Andrew less. They had stopped waiting, watching every single action from Andrew that would fuck the Redcap over their deal. They didn’t force Andrew to participate in their convos, but sometimes they would walk with them when the Redcap went around telling Andrew what to eat. They didn’t keep as much distance as they used to. 

Sometimes, they brought food that Andrew always felt weary of eating, because _not accepting food from Faeries_ had to have its reasons, but the Redcap never told him not to. And the Redcap wouldn’t break their deal because if Andrew ended up stuck in Faerie land, he wouldn’t have a due date to leave, meaning the “when my fifteen years are over” part of their deal wouldn’t exist. 

Andrew didn’t trust the Redcap’s friends, nor their interest in what had happened to the humans in their absence, but he unconsciously started to let his hackles raise less and less often. 

It didn’t make up for how they could let the Fae do what they did to the Redcap. Matt giving blood to the Redcap was the bare minimum, and it still wasn’t _enough_. He couldn’t donate often because, although he had the human part in his blood, he also had the _Fae_ part. The human part wasn’t strong enough to overcome the effects that the Fae blood had, and were impossible to get the Redcap back in health. 

But one thing that Andrew knew wasn’t fake was their _interest._ It made sense. For dying creatures in a dying land, hearing about a world that thrived after their parting clearly felt… cathartic, in a way. Or that was what they claimed. 

Looking at the Redcap, Andrew thought their interest felt more comparable to a damned soul looking through the window just outside of the paradise that they’d lost. Andrew had no sympathy towards the nostalgic look the others had as they heard him talk, but the Redcap… 

Andrew childishly wished, for a few fervorous seconds, that he could save him. 

As time went on, and Andrew could compare the different memories he had of the Redcap over the years and witness his decline, that wish seemed to get less and less childish. Maybe because Andrew himself was growing and had more time to heal—or get attached. That last one was probably the true reason, although Andrew didn’t let himself think about it too much. 

Their deal would only span for fifteen years, after all. There was nothing he could do to _permanently_ save him. 

* * *

Fifteen years was a long time, but maybe especially to a teenager stuck on a land where nothing ever changed but him. 

Fifteen years was a long time to squander memories of days and nights that would be indistinguishable from one another if not for Andrew’s eidetic memory. Even with that, if Andrew wasn’t careful to go through his catalogue often enough, he would have some trouble identifying what activity had belonged to what day. 

Fifteen years was a long time to go from teenager to young adult to full-grown adult, crouching closer and closer to thirty years old. An age of particular milestones for so many people. 

An age Andrew had never fully believed he’d ever reached. 

But maybe the worst part of how long fifteen years actually was when he realized that he hadn’t thought about his brother _at all_ while he had been there, worrying about a Redcap and his health—which kept deteriorating in front of everybody’s eyes. While nobody did a fucking thing. 

The Faes who cared about the Redcap didn’t have enough magic to interest humans or couldn’t go into the human world outside of specific situations. Andrew once looked at the Asrai and thought… did she make a deal with Aaron so a human could be brought to Faerie land? So that the Redcap could meet them? It wasn’t like the Asrai could allow the Redcap to kill them, or even harm them, but… 

How many humans had pitied him and offered a deal like Andrew’s? The number couldn’t be high if he looked _that_ bad. When had the Redcap last fed himself with _full_ human blood? Andrew couldn’t guess or get an accurate reply, since the Fae didn’t have any reasons to record time anymore. 

How long could the Redcap trudge along, fueled by spite alone? 

It couldn’t be that much longer. 

Fifteen years was a long time to watch someone who had protected you from harm every day and know that there would come a day when you would have to turn your back, get away from it all. 

Live. 

While others died. 

Because the Faeries that could survive the shrinkage of Faerie land and magic had decided they would live, and the others who couldn’t would die. 

Once upon a time, Andrew had been half-notbelongy boy, half mid-tier monster, waiting for someone to trigger his shifting into a whole functioning person. Someone that would want to be around him even when he hadn’t had his magical transformation into a whole being yet. 

Someone who would be willing to wait for Andrew to become himself. 

What could Andrew do to retribute that? Retribute the unspoken, yet gigantic trust that the Redcap had foolishly deposited upon Andrew, just because he’d offered scraps of what the Redcap needed to _exist_? 

Earlier than he’d thought it should be, Andrew’s seasons calendar reached towards its last Winter—that would be followed by his last Spring, Summer and Autumn. The Faerie land had never changed to reflect the passage of those seasons, but… Andrew would be free, undoubtedly. Able to walk away from an unjust world to another. 

Andrew only had to survive another year. After that, he would be able to deal forever with what his life could become, if a little later than most. However, he simply could _not_ let go of a future where the Redcap wasn’t in it. 

He had to begin the process of making peace with the harsh reality, though. Sooner rather than later, since he didn’t have one single idea of what else he could do. 

It was just… hard to do so. 

Hard to agree to become another person who didn’t care about the Redcap. 

* * *

Despite everything that Andrew had to endure in fifteen years, here they were. Despite the belief that this would be nothing but a way to save a brother from a fate worse than death, here they were: two creatures from different worlds who didn’t fit anywhere and felt adrift from all of it, maddeningly finding _something_ in the other, even if all Andrew had wanted to see of it for the longest time was an agreement. A transaction. 

On his last day in Faerie land, Andrew could at least let some part of himself stop lying, and see that what they had was closer to _companionship._ A fire that burned only when they were together, its warmth soothingly comforting and efficient at driving back the shadows of loneliness. 

They belonged when together. Not to a place, but to each other. 

When they had arrived at the edge of the worlds, only the Redcap was there to watch Andrew take a deep lungful of Fae land’s air. They were silent for a while, although the Redcap’s gaze held a book’s worth of sentences unvoiced. 

Andrew could identify only his hunger amidst the mess of indecipherable pages. 

“I’ll ask it for the last time,” Andrew said, extending a hand towards the tiny bowl that the Redcap held between them, patiently waiting for his prize. “Are you sure you want me to do it with one of my knives?” 

“Yes,” the Redcap said, like he had in the last five instances where Andrew had asked that same question. It looked like he wouldn’t elaborate, just like he hadn’t all the other times, and Andrew was ready to sigh in frustration, but then the Redcap smiled—largely, all teeth showing proudly, dangerously, tiny weapons in silvery white. “It will keep me from drinking or putting too much of it on the cap. The temptation is not worth the… weakening effects your blade will leave in the blood.” 

Ah. Andrew thought that was fair, even though he had never made the connection. 

What he didn’t think was fair was his reluctance while he placed turned the knife in his hand. He should he should feel embarrassed to almost feel like he _wanted_ to offer more blood than what they had agreed upon—freely, no strings attached. 

He couldn’t, though. Even if he did, the Redcap would say no because it wasn’t what they had agreed and it would be good to have the weight pulled towards Andrew’s side of the scale. 

Andrew wanted the Redcap to live, to thrive, even at his own expense, but… he couldn’t ignore what the Redcap was just because they had 15 years of caring for each other. Who knew how quickly the Redcap’s feelings would turn once he realized what power he could exert over Andrew? How much would he change if he wasn’t just a hungry creature all the time? 

_I like you all honest like that, but be honest to yourself: do you think I would have been open to this agreement without desperation?_

Andrew didn’t want to find the answer, just in case it wasn’t the one he foolishly longed for. 

With another deep breath, Andrew prepared to take his armbands in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. The Redcap gave a look at Andrew’s arm but didn’t really stare at the scars. 

Andrew squinted at him. “You knew I had them,” he said, clearly not a question. 

The Redcap frowned at him. “Was it supposed to be a secret? Humans scar easily. But yes, I knew they were there.” The Redcap looked back down at Andrew’s exposed forearm. It felt like he was trying hard to caress Andrew’s skin with his gaze alone, but Andrew supposed that was the impression the Redcap wanted to give him. He had always been committed to his theatrics over Andrew’s blood, after all. Andrew could never imagine looking at his food so enamored, but he wasn’t Fae. 

(He would also not comment on how much he didn’t care about it. Would comment even less over how _fond_ he felt over comments about his fucking _blood_.) 

“Human blood stutters over every single scar, and it’s an easily recognizable pattern if you know it. In my opinion, it always feels like it wants to escape, desperately.” 

“ _Of course_ you would interpret it like that,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. The Redcap smiled again and went back to his beatific, looking at the tiny bowl as if it would fill itself. 

Andrew raised the knife he had been playing with and positioned it on his left arm. The Redcap’s eyes were weighty on the scene, ravenous. 

Andrew didn’t cut it immediately, maybe because he could recognize exactly what the Redcap was thinking. It had been a while since Andrew had to watch a predator readying for an attack, but not long enough that his instincts couldn’t make his heart race with adrenaline. 

The Redcap noticed the change, of course, and he looked at Andrew’s face eagerly, hungry. Whatever expression Andrew was making was enough to make him blink himself back into a semblance of civility, and the Redcap had the grace to look embarrassed. 

“Well… I seem to have lost myself to your cardiac rhythm for a little time there.” The Redcap laughed, burying his death-like pale talons in his hair as he scratched his own scalp. 

“You told me you wouldn’t lose control,” Andrew reminded him, though he knew it was unnecessary. 

The Redcap acknowledged that with a nod. “That I did. It’s been… too long since I’ve seen human blood, clearly. The hunger can be… overwhelming. I’ll turn my back on you. Maybe just the smell won’t be enough to take my composure.” 

Just as every other time that Andrew was reminded that he wasn’t speaking with a human at all, but to the remnants of one of the hungriest creatures in the entire world, in _both_ worlds, Andrew felt something in him hurting from seeing itself reflected on another. Andrew’s hunger wasn’t a twin to this particular hunger of the Redcap, but they had so many similar appetites that Andrew senselessly wanted to offer him _more._

Andrew remembered the Prince’s words: _We all knew that the Redcap had been slowly going mad without... proper feeding, but he didn’t even argue with you for a better deal, did he? He just accepted the infinitesimal amount of blood you offered because he needed it. Even if it was almost insignificant. He has fallen into the trap of a_ human _._

Andrew couldn’t hide behind his lack of care this time. He could only feel anger, that the Faes had deprived so many of their own from the human world out of fear, agreeing that some of them deserved to pay the price, even if it was unasked. 

Even if it was unwilling. 

Andrew had wanted the Fae world wanting to protect someone who he genuinely believed needed it, but he didn’t feel like it would. In these fifteen years, they had gone back to its passivity, but they never stopped looking at the Redcap as if he wasn’t a _waste of space_. Andrew wanted to be free of this world where he didn’t belong, but he couldn’t fight the urge to leave it by protecting another person. Go out just like he came in. 

“You said my blood wants to escape,” Andrew blurted out to the Redcap’s back. 

“You are being more of a tease than usual,” The Redcap commented as he turned. “Meaning, you are being a tease at all. You have never been like this. Could it be that living here has taught you to be crueler than when you came in?” 

“You said my blood wants to escape,” Andrew repeated insistently. “Do _you_?” 

The Redcap frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“What keeps you here in Faerie lands? Why don’t you go out like some Faes do?” 

“Well, because I don’t have any business with anyone on the outside,” the Redcap reminded him, frowning harder. “It is also unlikely that I’ll find a human willing to deal with me on my own currency. I only deal in blood and I can only perform garish deaths and minimal magics. And that’s only when I’m in peak condition—” the Redcap gestured to his own body. “—which I’m currently not.” 

“There’s nothing else that keeps you here? You don’t fear what some of the Fae do to those who keep escaping?” 

“The Unseelie—” 

“Stop with the mindless propaganda, we both know it isn’t just the Unseelie who show physical disapproval over those who have attractive enough magic to tempt humans into deals.” 

The Redcap finally seemed irritated at Andrew. “Speak clearly.” 

“I would make a deal with you.” Andrew’s heartbeat roared inside his body, echoing through the silence between them. Andrew couldn’t even imagine how loud it was to the Redcap, especially when Andrew knew the Redcap’s desire would amplify it. “Another one. It’s been fifteen years since I’ve lived amongst humans. There are many things that I won’t have, there are many dangers that I might find. I could see how useful it would be to have—” 

“Is this out of pity?” the Redcap cut him off, and Andrew had never heard him so _enraged._ “What has motivated this? You lie, don’t you? You probably don’t even need _anything_ —” 

Andrew watched as the Redcap unglued his bony feet from the grass and walked towards him, stopping closer than ever before as he gripped the tiny bowl in Andrew’s hand, making it tremble between them. The smell of old blood was much stronger when the Redcap was this close. It reminded Andrew of death, of old habits—of watching the slow spring that came from cuts and relieved the pain. It reminded Andrew of dying, even if it was slowly, even if it was only on the inside. 

Andrew didn’t let go of the bowl, so the Redcap shook it violently. “Just give me what you _fucking_ promised and be free, you fool. Do you have any idea—” 

The Redcap closed his mouth with a loud click. Andrew wanted to rejoice in being able to make the Redcap almost look _human_ in his way of offering free information, but Andrew didn’t want to start this on the wrong foot. If everything went as he’d planned, he would have the Redcap for a long time—too long to have their foundations built upon something as sour as resentment. 

“If I can be free, it’s only because of your efforts,” Andrew told the Redcap quietly. “It’s only fair that I try to free you as well.” 

The Redcap’s pride and his hunger battled to take ownership of his expression. Andrew couldn’t let that play out without offering the Redcap _himself_ something to use as a foothold. Something to finally bring him into the control of his own life. 

“Humans can have a certain amount of blood drawn from them periodically,” Andrew carefully told the Redcap. “I can give you 500 milliliters of blood per month if you agree to protect me until my dying day.” 

The Redcap looked at the bowl between them, which trembled in their hold. Not because of Andrew, but because of how firm the Redcap’s grip was. Andrew could imagine how hard it was for him to come to terms with the fact that he could have on a monthly basis what he’d worked for _fifteen years_ to have. 

The Redcap couldn’t look up at Andrew yet. Andrew knew it was just from the instinctive fear that the vulnerability of the deep _longing_ displayed in the Redcap’s gaze would be exploited, so Andrew let him look down, up, away—as long as he was _thinking_. 

Andrew hadn’t let himself think about this offer for the longest time, but now that it lived in the ellipses between them, he had nothing to do but consider it truly. He didn’t know if that was a healthy amount for him himself to donate, but it was a loosely worded sentence. Andrew could absolutely claim the blood didn’t have to come _from_ him. 

It had been a long time, especially since he’d _thought_ about him at all, but Andrew still remembered that his brother wanted to be a doctor in his youth. If Aaron had found the balls to follow that dream, he would find it in himself to help Andrew get that required amount. From the goodness of his heart, perhaps. If he didn’t have that voluntarily, though, Andrew had no qualms manipulating him into searching for it. 

(Actually, after living with the Fae for so long, Andrew had _some_ qualms, deep down, but he also knew that Aaron probably wouldn’t deny him that. Aaron could have said whatever he wanted when they parted, but Andrew doubted he didn’t feel guilty. Didn’t feel responsible. Fifteen years was a long time for the person who had argued for three days against someone taking his punishment in his place to not let guilt fester.) 

“Why are you offering this?” The Redcap asked in a voice as insignificant as lint _._ “What do you gain from it?” 

Andrew wanted to appeal to the part of the Redcap that had shown kinship to Andrew in the past, but he knew that wouldn’t work. Not right now, not when his hunger was so close to the front. 

“You are Fae, Champion,” Andrew admonished him, which made the Redcap blink. “Are you saying that you can’t see the holes in my deals?” 

_Humans are terrible at making deals. Makes it all the sweeter to get them to offer something first, and tie them to us with it at the end._

Something burned for a brief second on the Redcap’s face. Then his gaze dropped down to Andrew’s chest, laser-focused on Andrew’s heartbeat. 

“Are you planning to die soon?” the Redcap asked, still looking at Andrew’s chest as he waited for an answer. 

“Not really.” 

“What kind of threats do you expect out of humans? I need to know to be prepared.” 

Andrew cut his arm in clean movement, and the tiny gasp from the Redcap sounded more present than it probably would have been a few moments ago. The Redcap met his gaze and smirked, the subdued pride in his eyes clear enough to make Andrew roll his eyes in exasperation as he opened and closed his hand. 

One of the Redcap’s hands hovered over Andrew’s until he nodded. As soon as their skin touched, the Redcap’s magic made Andrew’s blood flow out faster. 

“All kinds of danger,” Andrew replied to him, though, and they both watched as his blood filled the ceramic and the waiting silence between them with crackles of hope. “You know how dangerous they are.” 

“Well, it has been a while since I’ve dealt with many of them at once,” The Redcap reasoned. “It might take me a short while to find my footing with them.” 

The bowl was close to overflowing when the Redcap released Andrew’s hand reluctantly and the cut stopped bleeding immediately. The Redcap raised a finger towards the cut that was knitting itself together, and hovered until Andrew let him swipe the droplet of blood left behind with one single swipe of his finger—that went straight to the Redcap’s mouth. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you talking about? Redcaps never really cared about dealing with a lot of humans at once.” 

“Oh, you are correct,” The Redcap smiled like he’d swallowed the sun, not just a droplet of blood. Andrew watched as he reverently took off his cap and dipped the tip of it on the bowl, both of them watching as the cap went from brownish and depressing, to a deep, glossy red. “Seems like I’ll only have to deal with you, after all.” 

“Any complaints on that front?” 

“Haven’t had a reason to complain in fifteen years,” The Redcap said, still smiling. “I do not plan to start now.” 

Andrew wasn’t stupid to hope that this would be enough to make the Redcap fit in an idealized dream that he wanted to have. Wasn’t stupid enough to forget that the Redcap felt like a dream _himself._ Andrew had spent too long living in a dream-like world, but forgetting those things would go against everything he’d learned about the Redcap in their fifteen years together. 

However, Andrew couldn’t deny that he was currently rejoicing over the fact that he wouldn’t leave Faerie land _alone._ He wouldn’t be alone out there, regardless of what had happened to Aaron, to Nicky, and whatever life they had built and that Andrew didn’t. 

Andrew had built a life with the Redcap beside him. 

He couldn’t wait to help the Redcap find a way to build his own back up, if Andrew’s presence in it wasn’t enough. 

Andrew looked at the Redcap as he fixed his cap back on his head, a mischievous smile perched on his lips that turned a tad softer when he looked at Andrew. 

No, Andrew wouldn’t hope. He didn’t have to in order to know that the Redcap would come around to meet him in the middle. They were too similar not to. 

And thus they walked together to the edge of both worlds, Andrew feeling his heartbeat and imagining it was the lullaby needed to soothe the nightmare that was starting over somewhere new and unknown, probably having to deal with all sorts of dangers—from humans and Faeries alike. 

They could weather it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> and that's a wrap! You would never know this, but I cut like... two half-written scenes bc i was Struggling with them (and i KNEW that if I forced myself to put them here, this would DEF be way too close to 15k lmao and thats an unreasonable amount!!!), but they also felt more like a coda??? Than anything that absolutely needed to stay?  
>   
> I might come back and finish writing one scene about them in the human world. I don't promise anything because I talked about my plans in 2020 and they were UHHHH derailed, but! It might happen in the future!  
>   
> dear shklance_beef_sandwich (lmao i love writing your username): I hope this ending was satisfactory and worth the wait. I'm glad you were cool with my wacky idea and only metaphorical mentions to the song lyrics! Thank you for being so awesome and kind <3  
>   
> my tumblr is [polzkadotz](http://polzkadotz.tumblr.com) and my twitter is [polzka_dotz](http://twitter.com/polzka_dotz). Come say hi or anything you want (within reason lmao)!  
>   
> (EDIT 07/02/2021): a quick google search just informed me that boulder does not mean what i thought it meant (a.k.a. just a synonym to rock). I could change it but i think its funnier this way. Please imagine a teenage, hungry Andrew just throwing a bigass rock at Riko kaospkapkasop  
> 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Listen. I know the song has VERY MUCH roadtrip vibes from the beginning, and the video has beach fire pit and stuff and I tried to plan fics for those scenarios, but my writer's block screamed FAERIES OR NOTHING, AND YOU WILL NOT SEARCH FAERIES VERY DEEPLY. I hope this wasn't a complete disappointment. 💔  
> 
> 
>   
> (It doesn't help that, in my mind, the perfect roadtrip fic already exists, which is ihaveacleverfandomurl's [so maybe tonight I'll be the libertine ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138344))  
> 
> 
>   
> Anyway, it's before midnight for me right now, but I still have roughly 6k left of this? AAAAAA I'm trying to cut down my unnecessary ramblings, but this is hard when each blink of mine takes like. Fifteen seconds. I'm so sleepy but I'll try to powerthroughit or something!  
> 


End file.
